Harsh Mistress
by erdbeerpfannkuchen
Summary: Prompt: All Tied Up. After being all tied up at work, Sybil decides to tie up her husband in different ways.


The entire ride home, his feet were sore. Well, to be fair, most of him was sore. He was tired, and at some unhappy medium between cranky and irritable. Tom hadn't gotten proper rest for two weeks, and running his hands through his hair, realized he had probably missed a shower or two in that time span, too. He probably hadn't gone to the gym in a month, and all in all, he really just needed a nap. So when Friday came, he was glad to tear himself away from his desk. He tried to assure himself that he would get the work done over the weekend, but knew he was kidding himself. Each assignment felt like a particularly sticky band aid that was going to be painfully ripped off sooner or later.

He pulled into the garage, and sighed. Poor Syb. She had had it just as bad as he- shift after shift after shift at the E.R., and still in doctoral classes. He would be tired just looking at her on normal weeks, but the bags that formed under her eyes lately were too much to bear. Apparently, she saw it in him, too. Their conversations over dinner had mostly been mumbling. Sybil had fallen asleep on his shoulder the other day, on hand holding a spoonful of canned tomato soup that dribbled onto the table, the other a page of some massive textbook riddled with terms he was well aware he would never be versed in. He really admired her work ethic.

As Tom turned the key, he realized his wife hadn't gotten back yet, but figured she would forgive him if he went to bed early. She probably would have done the same. And so, tugging at his tie, he collapsed into bed.

* * *

He awoke to a slap in the face.

Startled, he attempted to rise, but found himself bound. Glancing behind him, he realized he was restrained by his own belts, all four limbs tied to their own bed post. The room was dark, but for flickering lights he assumed were candles (his eyes were having trouble adjusting). He felt a small loop of leather across his face, down his neck, and onto his bare chest. It stopped when it reached his nipple, and the small, hard stem the leather connected too rubbed it hard, painfully digging into it. "Ow!"

He felt a warm weight on his lower torso as he felt the object removed, and tucked under his chin, edging it upward. "Shush."

"Syb?" He uttered, earning another whack across the face.

"I said shush."

"Where the hell did you get a riding crop?"

Whack.

Tom went silent.

"You shall address me as m'lady."

His eyes were adjusting better now. Black, thigh high boots nestled themselves behind his head, heels scraping along his chest and arms along the way, leaving little red marks. They almost broke skin, but not quite. She wore some intricate, lacy, masquerade type mask, with flecks of gold and red, to match a silk robe she wore. He couldn't recall the last time they had made any sort of preparation for sex, god forbid role play. Their whole time dating was essentially a role play- the princess and the pauper. Romeo and Juliet, or whathaveyou. But fuck, really, she was working at this one. He could smell perfume in her hair, lipstick, and, of course, leather. There was no denying that she was sexy. He hated to admit it, but as much as her mind enticed him, it had originally been her plump, curved lips and even curvier body that first drew him under her spell, and her charm had never worn off.

Sharpened red nails combed his hair back. "You haven't been good to me." She mumbled, leaning forward onto his forehead, tugging at his hair with one hand, the other clenching around his throat. "You've been too busy for me." Her grip tightened, and her thumb drew upwards sharply, drawing blood on his jaw. "I don't like to be neglected."

Struggling for some sort of apology, but remembering he would be slapped again, he shut his mouth. Tom then realized he had been stripped naked, but for his tie. Damn, how long was he out for?

Sybil stood up on the bed, planting a sharp heel into his naval.

"I want you to beg for me."

"What?"

She dragged her heel back, tracing down his line of hair, twisting the point into his tender flesh. Tom hissed loudly.

"Beg."

"Sybil, really-" He was tired, he really couldn't do this right now. He didn't have the energy to grovel, and his pubes being assaulted didn't really help.

Sitting back down on the center of his body, she gently undid her robe. First, the bow on her sash. The robe peeked open, just a bit. Tom noticed that she was in her best lingerie- black, beaded, laced, Agent Provocateur, and very expensive. The cups didn't completely support her breasts, and just barely covered anything. He gulped. Sybil shrugged her shoulders, and the robe slipped off, falling behind her, soft fabric just barely nestling on his…

Fuck.

He felt himself twitch, and tense up as she reached behind her, unhooking her bra. His toes curled. Not good.

The bra hung on her, as she hadn't let it fall. A finger traced along the middle of his chest, where muscles separated. She smirked, twisting his tie around her finger, then yanking it upwards, stretching his neck. Tom sucked in air, lips parting, quickly taken in by Sybil's. Her tongue darted across his lips, farther in, tracing his own tongue for a moment. She pressed them together, pulling harder on his tie. Tom pulled at his reins, wrists fighting uselessly at restraints. Sybil noticed broke away abruptly, though hovered barely an inch away. He felt his breathe grow heavy, brows settling into a look of frustration. Fine, she had what she wanted. Surely, she would let him go?

With a flurry of swift tugs, his tie was removed from his neck. Head falling back onto the pillow, he looked over his captor. God, she was gorgeous. He could see milky skin peek out below the open bra, and grew annoyed at the censor her lingerie had become. "Take it off," he groaned, noticing with embarrassment how it had come off much more like the begging she wanted than he intended.

Sybil turned the opposite direction, and threw her bra to the other side of the room. She traced her hands along the sides of her back, and down her thighs. He felt his chest rise and fall with increased difficulty. His eyes traced up her back, teeth scraping his lips in admiration of how her dark hair looked in the glow of candles.

She propped her legs up on the foot of the bed, lining them up with his own. She slipped the tie over him, sliding the fabric loosely up and down his growing erection. Tom let out a whimper, and she whipped his leg, increasing the speed of the rubbing. She bent over slightly, and blew a puff of hot breath onto the tip.

Tom's knees pulled up, trying futilely to free himself. He felt himself shudder, a deep grunt escaping his lips. This wasn't funny anymore.

"Syb?" he rasped, oxygen suddenly feeling like a rare commodity. "Love?"

She didn't bother hitting him this time. Bringing her mouth closer, she let out another breath, eliciting another violent tug at the restraints. She turned back to face him again, thighs just brushing against him, and she grinned maliciously as she felt him squirm.

He drew in a sharp breath. Of course, he had seen her naked many times before. Hell, she could never wear clothes again, and he would still be aroused by her. His arms yanked again at the bedposts. He wanted to touch them, to touch her, to make her whimper like she was making him.

"Oh god, have mercy on me."

Sybil covered his eyes with the tie, making a knot she was positive would be uncomfortably tight. He felt her chest on his, a soft kiss planted on his jaw, a bite on his ear. "Not a chance."

He heard momentary rustling, and the sound of something light hit the carpet.

Oh god.

Hands ran across his chest, painfully slowly, nails leaving little scrapes in their path.

"Tell me you want me."

He blubbered a bit. "I want you."

"Address me properly." A finger traced his collarbone. Tom could feel sweat running down his forehead, pooling in his eyebrows, on his tie.

"I want you, m'lady."

Sybil toyed with a lock of his dampening hair. "Tell me you're a dirty, dirty man who would do all sorts of things to me."

"Just let me go and I'll-"

"Do it."

"I'm a dirty, dirty man who wants to do all sorts of things to you, m'lady, please just untie me and I swear" he sped through the words, trying to blurt them out quickly, eager to move on to whatever parroting she wanted to move closer to his goal. He was going insane. Tom hadn't even noticed her hands were gone.

Candle wax dripped onto his chest.

"_SHIT!_" he blurted. Fuck, that was not okay, that was really really not okay. He expected some sort of witty retort, but instead got an equally mortified gasp. Her weight left him, and he heard her run off.

"Where the hell are you going?!"

He felt cold paper towels on him, which didn't even begin to combat the burning sensation. "Oh, shit, oh my god." she croaked over and over, like a chant.

After a moment, Tom felt the belt on one of his hands being loosened, then the other. Without waiting for them to be completely undone, he swung up, still blindfolded, pawing and groping around at whatever bit of her skin he could touch. "Oh, I'll get you for this..." He was still in pain from the wax, but that wasn't what needed attending to at the moment. He grabbed at a breast as she undid his feet, and brought her in by a thigh with the other, she pushed at him as he brought a free nipple into his mouth, and almost clenched down on it when Sybil shoved him off with all her might.

"Get that stupid tie off your face and put on some clothes, now."

"You have got to be kidding."

Tom peeked under his blindfold, and saw Sybil putting her robe on. "After all that?"

"I'm taking you to the hospital to get some burn ointment. Your skin is peeling off."

Glancing down, he noticed the wax had sloughed off with the paper towels, along with his skin. A pair of pants hit his face, and the fabric fell onto his chest, irritating his raw skin. "Ow."

Wrestling with the pants, half blind, he managed to fall off the bed. Sybil sighed, and tossed a shirt. "Come on."

Anything that touched his flesh was painful, so he decided to forgo it. If Sybil was leaving the house in only her robe and thigh high boots, he was entitled to leave without a shirt.

* * *

Sybil fiddled with the keys on their way into the hospital. She had her lanyard around her neck, and looked very out of place in the parking lot of a hospital, hauling an oversize boho purse out of a Ford Fiesta in a bright red kimono. Neither had realized how late it had become- the sun had long since set, and the eerie incandescent lights of the parking lot were a little unnerving.

"Love, you should probably take off the mask."

"Right." She pulled the ribbons at the back, and tossed it in the car, locking it.

While walking the front steps to the hospital, Tom grabbed her arm, and twisted her around.

"Hey, Syb?"

"Disastrous, I know."

"No, it wasn't." She frowned down at him from her higher perch, and he fixed it with a quick peck. "We should do that more often."

Sybil tossed her hair behind her shoulder. "Well, you make the arrangements for the second one. It took forever to set it all up." She chuckled. "Please put your belts away in one spot. I almost used a scarf for your left foot."

He raised his eyebrows, mock-seductively. "If you tell me where you keep that whip."

She mimicked his expression. "Get your own."

"I love you."

"I love you too, Tom."

_Just for fun! I'll update my real story, I swear! :P_

_Please review!  
_


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